


no fool (can be silent at a feast)

by rkyu



Series: the unexamined life is not worth living [2]
Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: 2018 Internationaux de France, Barebacking, Casual Sex, M/M, hashtag bros with benefits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-29 22:13:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17211803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rkyu/pseuds/rkyu
Summary: Romain looksamused,the bastard. “What I’m saying is, are you interested?”Nathan sucks in a lungful of air.“God yes,” he breathes out in a rush.





	no fool (can be silent at a feast)

**Author's Note:**

> so uh, there were supposed to be several installments in the series before this one, but i have to do what my two withered brain cells want me to do or i’ll never write. there's no redeeming qualities here, just porn. happy holidays y’all. 
> 
> there’s only very vague references to the first installment of the series, so it’s not absolutely necessary to read that first.
> 
>  
> 
> beta'd by the awesome sophiahelix!

“....enter a….para-lytic state. What’s that?”

“Paralysis.” Nathan resolutely keeps his eyes on his laptop screen as he types away; the weight of Romain’s shoulder is pressed solidly against his own, where the man is leaning up over the edge of the bed. “Like, when you can’t move.”

“Ah.” Romain shifts from his spot on the floor, attention falling back to the phone held loose in his hand.

Sure, Nathan can’t exactly achieve focus zen like this, and would probably be finished with his paper already if it weren’t for Romain’s game of _pick out all the hard English words I don’t know_ , but he’s okay with it. Really, Nathan’s just grateful Romain chose to wait with him in his hotel room while he frantically types up a psychology essay, when he could be doing literally anything else.

He’s grateful that Romain missed him as much as he missed Romain.

And, okay. It might have a little, tiny bit to do with how _nice_ the words sound coming out of Romain’s mouth, shaped with his accent, but whatever. Nathan’s traveled to two countries in as many days and he’s jet lagged as hell and he’s still smarting from his less than stellar short program earlier. _And_ his brain is currently melting from trying to vomit out something semi academically coherent, so. He’s not going to punish himself over crimes of horniness.

And he usually does. He really does. Nathan’s lost count of how many times he’s wished he could go back to the time he lived in peace, blissfully unaware of how unfairly fucking _hot_ Romain is.

Unfortunately, Nathan is locked in an uphill battle against the base, primal caveman part of his brain, the stupid-horny part that doesn’t care if Romain is basically his brother in all but blood, and has been for years.

Nope. Good old _stupid-horny_ is to blame for drawing Nathan’s eyes to Romain’s ass walking ahead of him like the world’s most pathetic magnet, every single time. And for glancing to Romain’s sweats pulling tighter over his bulge while they’re sitting together on the locker room bench to lace up their boots, shuddering over how big it might be. _And_ for staring at Romain’s long fingers cradling a wine glass at dinner, imagining what they’d feel like inside him.

The sane and rational part of Nathan’s brain kind of wants to die. No, rational-brain absolutely wants to die. The slow work he’d done to grow comfortable in his attraction to men these past months in no way covered what to do if one of those men happened to be his best friend.

 _Death_ , rational-brain suggests.

Maybe the rational part of his brain doesn’t actually exist.

“Okay,” Nathan announces as he types in the last period on the last sentence of his god forsaken paper, “done.” He quickly saves his work and exits out of the document, snapping his laptop closed with relish. “Ugh.”

He’ll proofread it tomorrow, in the brief respite of time after the free skate and before gala practice. Hell, he just might send it off to his professor as is, live dangerously. He’s finding it hard to muster the will to care at the moment.

Romain perks up. “See, you could do it, smart guy.” He claps Nathan on the back. “I think some of the others must be at the bar, if you wanna go and hang out. You can order your own drink here.” He grins, nudging his shoulder into Nathan’s again.

This is another new thing for Nathan; Romain-in-France, versus the Romain-in-America he’s used to. Not that it’s a _drastic_ difference, exactly, but he can see what it means to Romain to be back in his home country, even just for a visit, even for a competition. He’s touchier, quicker to smile, more willing to tease.

Nathan bites the corner of his mouth, thinking it over. “....I have a test on Tuesday that I should start studying for,” he says, slowly, with all the enthusiasm it warrants. The looming threat of potential academic failure is inescapable, though. “But you should go, if you want.”

Romain gives him a long look. “How did you grow up so fast?” he asks, with a frankly over-dramatic sigh. Nathan rolls his eyes.

“Shut up,” he mutters, in a poor deflection of the teasing.

“Really!” Romain protests, shifting on the floor so he’s facing Nathan’s form sprawled on the bed. “So mature now.” He lifts a hand up and pushes it into Nathan’s curls, messily scrubbing them around. Nathan’s dumb traitor heart kicks in his chest at the unexpected contact.

Romain’s mouth quirks up in a grin again. “And handsome,” he says. Like that’s a fair joke to make when his own ridiculously chiseled face is _right there_. Still, it has warmth blooming under Nathan’s skin, and he hates how it affects him at all.

What happens next is, plainly put, an absolute train wreck.

Nathan knows, in his rational brain, that Romain is being nothing but playful when his fingers dig further into Nathan’s locks, grab tight, tug upwards. He was, in all likelihood, going to let go right after, probably laugh too.

Nathan knows this on some level, but that is not the level that’s in control. If his rational brain was behind the wheel, he’d be able to bumble out some kind of fake annoyance, and Romain would tease him a little more and they’d move on.

But no, _stupid-horny_ is calling the shots.

The sharp, tiny shocks that ripple down his scalp travel directly into whatever sadistic part of him that morphs pain into pleasure, instead of processing it like a normal human. A faint shout from caveman-land echoes in the back of his head on a mangled loop: _pullingmyhairpullingmyhairpulling_ ―

Nathan knows it’s happening _as_ it’s happening, and like said train wreck, he’s powerless to stop it; his eyes flutter closed, and he breathes out a stilted little noise, as soft as it is undeniably sexual.

His eyes snap wide open, and it all grinds to a halt. Romain’s gone still, fingers stuck in Nathan’s hair, his own eyes slightly wide. Neither of them move, neither of them say a word.

_Why God, why?_

It’s a rhetorical question. The answer is simple. Nathan’s life is a cruel joke of a circus, and he’s the top-billed clown.

That doesn’t make it any less mortifying. Nathan can say, with ironclad confidence, that this is the worst thing that’s ever happened to him. Hip injury what? Short program in Pyeongchang _who?_

And Romain _still_ hasn’t let go of his hair, which is throwing a wrench in Nathan’s plan to beeline for the window and swiftly hurl himself off the fire escape.

Romain does move then, in a small way; his mouth parts, and his tongue runs over his lower lip.

Nathan has to hand it to him for finding a way to make this situation _worse_ than it already is. Now there’s no way Romain can’t see how Nathan’s stupid fool eyes follow the path of his tongue and can he _please_ be released to go swan-dive from the balcony? Can he be allowed that small mercy?

Finally, _finally,_ Romain loosens his hold on Nathan’s locks. It’s obvious the man has enough composure to not snatch his hand back like he’s been burned, but Nathan expected― _something_ along those lines, at least. Not those fingers dragging lightly through the rest of his hair, down to the nape of his neck, lingering.

“So,” Romain starts, and the low sound of it puncturing the silence almost startles Nathan into jumping.

“When Mariah and I are away from each other, doing competition or whatever,” he lets his hand fall away from Nathan entirely, cutting his gaze to it before coming back up, “we have a….kind of open thing. Agreement.”

Nathan still can’t find it in him to move any part of his body, but he _is_ starting to become aware of things beyond his visions of leaping from very high places. Like his heart galloping in his chest, and his clammy hands.

Romain continues. “Sometimes, in some situations, we sleep with other people.” He pauses, just _looking_ at Nathan, obviously waiting. As if that statement could garner a normal response even if Nathan _wasn’t_ in the middle of an internal nuclear meltdown.

This is. A lot. This is _a lot_.

“Seriously?” Is what Nathan manages, barely a squeak. Stupid-horny scrabbles around in excitement, like a panting dog. Rational-brain swats it down, because there’s absolutely no way Romain’s getting at―

A hint of a smile finds its way back to Romain’s face. “Seriously. You understand what I’m saying?”

No the fuck Nathan does _not_ understand, because there’s just. No way. He’s going to wake up any minute, tangled up in his hotel sheets with a raging, guilty boner.

“Um.” That’s about as eloquent as Nathan’s going to get.

Romain looks _amused_ , the bastard. “What I’m saying is, are you interested?”

This is just _so much_. Is he interested. What kind of a question is that. Is he _blind_ ? But this is Romain, _Romain,_ his best friend, the boyfriend of his other friend― but they apparently fuck other people, Jesus―

And here Romain is, asking Nathan if he wants to fuck. Asking _Nathan_. If he wants to _fuck_. Stupid-horny whimpers in the back of his mind.

He had no idea that Romain was even into guys.

Then again, not many people know that about Nathan either.

Can he fuck his best friend? _Should_ he fuck his best friend? That’s one of those not-good ideas, isn’t it? But Romain’s the one suggesting it. He would know if it was a bad idea, right? And he doesn’t seem to think it is.

Is he _interested_.

 _Do NOT fuck this up for us!_ ― stupid-horny and rational-brain howl together at about the same time, with vastly different meanings.

Nathan sucks in a lungful of air.

“God yes,” he breathes out in a rush.

Romain’s grin goes full-fledged again. “Thought so,” he says, pushing himself up to his knees. “I saw you looking, a few times.”

Nathan, who had scrambled up to plunk his laptop onto the nightstand, freezes again. “You―“ he sits back to slap his hands over his face, knocking his glasses upward. “Oh god.” Is his face red? It’s definitely red. _Get back in the center ring, Bozo._

He hears Romain laugh. “It’s okay.” He shifts closer, and Nathan feels his glasses get plucked from where they’d been pushed to his forehead. He peeks through his fingers in time to see Romain set them on the nightstand with the laptop.

“I’m flattered,” Romain says, leaning in to slide his hands over Nathan’s own. He takes hold of them and gently pulls them away from Nathan’s face. There’s a gleam in his eye, his grin lingering. “ _Very_ flattered.”

Then they’re kissing, Romain leaning over the edge of the bed, his large hands still wrapped around Nathan’s own and Nathan’s heart is hammering and god, they’re _kissing_.

He breaks the hold to grab onto Romain’s shirt, urge him up; Romain flows with it, climbs onto the bed and over Nathan as Nathan melts down onto the mattress, shoving one of his textbooks off the bedspread to hit the carpet below.

So much for studying. He can see the headline now― _Nathan Chen Squanders GPA Standing For Fleeting Opportunity To Get Dicked Down By Hot Friend._

Romain presses in with his body, hard and lean, at about the same time Nathan gets his tongue in Romain’s mouth; the heat in him bubbles up to mix with the thrill pumping through his veins in a heady combination.

This should be weirder than it is, Nathan thinks faintly as their tongues tangle, as Romain’s hand splays over his jaw, as Nathan grips onto the back of Romain’s shirt and cants his hips up. He’s making out with _Romain_ , that should be at least a little weird, right?

Maybe it’s so weird that it cancels itself out into _not_ weird. Romain makes a noise low in his throat and ruts down against Nathan, right over his dick, and a helpless little groan escapes him.

Whatever, it’s not weird and Nathan can’t really think about it beyond that.

It’s more than not weird, it’s― _shit_. Nathan slides his hands over Romain’s shoulders and sides and ass, gasps into his mouth, pushes their hips together in a way that’s somewhere between appreciative and frenzied. It’s like all the thoughts he’s been trying to cram into the corner of his mind are spilling out now, taking their chance to go buck wild. And he’s not stopping it.

Romain’s on the same page, judging by how his hands rake up under Nathan’s shirt to roam over the skin there, how he pulls away to nip down across Nathan’s throat, pants into the crook of his neck and meets Nathan’s hips with his own.

Nathan feels almost delirious when he sits up, nudges against Romain’s shoulder until he gets the hint and rolls back. He swings his leg over and climbs into Romain’s lap, thinking of everything he wants― god, he wants so much, and he wants to _show_ Romain how much he wants it.

It’s with that thought that Nathan cups Romain’s jaw, the prickle of beard against his palms, and slots their mouths together again just as he grinds down. Romain drags his hand up between Nathan’s shoulder blades, pulling their bodies even closer together as he shudders out an exhale between them.

 _Yes_ , the caveman grunts in Nathan’s head when Romain’s dick pushes snug against his ass, hard and _perfect_ even through layers of clothing― _yes, fuck yes. Good, yes, good good_ ― he grinds into it, again, again. _Fuck_ , he wants it so bad.

Romain suddenly breaks away from their kiss. “Shit,” he groans, hand bunched tight with Nathan’s shirt, and it jars Nathan’s brain off its singular track.

“―S’okay?” Nathan tries to blink the daze out of his eyes, breathing hard. Things were okay, weren’t they?

Romain huffs out a breathless laugh. “It’s okay, it’s good.” He strokes his hand over the back of Nathan’s neck, and Nathan melts a little. “I just expect you to be more― fuck, fuck English, what’s the word, shy? Not shy, but―” he shakes his head. “Nevermind, it’s good.” He leans in back in. “ _Really_ good.”

They kiss again, and Romain uses his hold on Nathan to flip him back onto the mattress. He rolls their hips together, lets his lips linger before pulling away to sit up, his hands going to tug his shirt over his head.

It’s not like Nathan’s never seen Romain shirtless before, but now he’s allowed to _look,_ and it’s― he’s― _nice_. All sleek muscle and tanned skin and nice, very nice―

He can only imagine how dumb his face must look right now to have Romain grinning like that. “I need to undress you too, princess?” he teases, and Nathan realizes he’s been doing nothing but staring. Sue him.

“Well, one of us _is_ the world champion…” Nathan shoots back, and he gets Romain’s shirt thrown in his face for it. He laughs, feeling the vibration of Romain’s quieter laughter through his lower half.

Nathan tosses it aside to wrestle his own shirt off, and by the time he’s working his sweats down he’s already missed Romain shedding his jeans; he stops short again to take in the man’s full, nude glory. And, _god_. Nathan’s never really been inclined to use beautiful as an adjective for a dick, but for Romain’s he would. He totally would.

Romain’s hands are suddenly helping to yank Nathan’s sweats completely off where Nathan stalled, startling him out of his thoughts. He’s pretty sure Romain stifles a snicker at his expense as he moves in close again, murmuring something in French against Nathan’s mouth.

He doesn’t understand, of course, but Nathan lets it go as soon as their bare bodies press together. They exchange more careless kisses, skin sliding over skin, and Nathan already knows what he wants to do. He pushes up to balance on his knees, guiding Romain back until he’s half-propped on the mattress.

He quickly shifts his way down between Romain’s legs, watching the planes of the man’s abs jump once he realizes where Nathan’s going. And he is. He is _absolutely_ going there.

Nathan settles right in the juncture of Romain’s thigh, feeling wired. He brings his hand up to wrap firm and sure around the other’s cock, bold with the open hunger gnawing at him. A shiver runs down his spine at the feel of it in his palm, the weight, the smooth heat. His own dick twitches impatiently.

He hears a soft inhale above him as he closes his grip, and Nathan glances up to find Romain staring at him. The teasing little traces of humor have bled away from his expression, leaving just his dark eyes, his barely parted mouth, his disheveled hair falling over his forehead― Nathan suddenly wishes he could snapshot this moment, tuck it away in his head like a guarded secret.

Breaking his gaze away, Nathan loosens his hold and swallows the saliva already pooled in his mouth. Jesus, he’s literally _drooling_ for it. Heart jumping, he leans in and licks up Romain’s dick, full and wet, all the way until he closes his mouth over the head.

Alright, so the one time he did this over the summer doesn’t count a whole lot for _experience_ , per se, but Nathan hopes that raw enthusiasm will make up for it.

He’s got no lack of _that_ , for sure― Nathan goes right for trying to take Romain down to the hilt, nearly gagging before he gets there. _Pacing, pacing?_ He thinks feverishly, pulling up enough to get his hand around Romain’s cock. He flexes his jaw open a little wider, flattens his tongue up against it and tries again.

It’s admittedly easier not to choke himself when he focuses on the fit of it in his mouth, on the up-and-down slide that he works into, on Romain’s taste and scent and the warmth of his skin. Nathan _likes_ it, he really does, and he thinks Romain does too; he’s shifting in jerky little movements under Nathan’s touch and breathing out almost-sighs and reaching down to tangle his fingers in Nathan’s hair again― and _that’s_ what really does it.

Nathan didn’t know this was a _thing_ for him, but apparently it is, because Romain’s tight grip on his locks has pleasure zipping down into the mounting heat in his gut to overflow through him.

He muffles a moan around Romain’s dick, bobbing his head a little faster, and Romain seems to catch on. He yanks lightly at Nathan’s hair, over and over until Nathan’s hips are rutting uselessly in the air, until he has to fumble his free hand down between his legs to grab his aching dick.

Romain’s hold coaxes Nathan up then, up, up, completely off his cock― it slides out of Nathan’s mouth with a _pop_ , glistening wet. Nathan hauls himself forward and Romain moves down, pulling their bodies together, kissing him with a new intensity. Nathan groans into it, shivering with the sheer _want_ quaking through him. Okay, he’s at his limit― he needed Romain in him like, five minutes ago.

He breaks away just enough to catch his breath. “Hold on, I gotta―” Nathan wiggles out of Romain’s grip and scrambles off the bed to get to his open suitcase on the floor. He roots around the inner pockets until his hand closes around the tube he was looking for, bringing it with him to climb back onto the bed.

Romain’s been watching the entire time, and his eyebrows tick up when he sees what Nathan has. It’s almost second nature to him by now, and Nathan hardly thinks about what he’s doing as he settles onto a pillow, scoots his legs apart, flicks the cap of the tube open to squirt lube over his fingers.  

“You really going to…?” Romain asks, following the path of Nathan’s hand down between his thighs with a small amount of wonder; Nathan stops just short of his hole, frowning in confusion.

“We’re― I mean, we are gonna fuck, right?” He doesn’t understand what Romain means. Has Nathan been reading this whole thing wrong? He couldn’t be.

Romain lets another breath escape him, eyes traveling up Nathan’s body. “Fuck yes we’re going to fuck, if you want that,” he says, “But I wasn’t...sure, if you’re okay with _this_.” He nods down to where Nathan is poised. “I think...there’s a lot I don’t know about you, huh?”

The small bit of tension that had gathered in Nathan’s shoulders instantly melts away once he realizes what Romain was getting at. He knows it’s silly, that it doesn’t matter, but his pride swells a little at knowing he has more experience than Romain gave him credit for.

“I’m a man of mystery,” he replies, finally bringing his slippery fingers down against himself.

Romain’s scoff is lost to Nathan skipping all preamble and sliding a finger right in, already too impatient. He exhales at the sudden slick pressure, his dick twitching with the familiar sensation. He rocks it around a little, telling his muscles to relax enough to slide a second finger in beside it.

Nathan has to remind himself to slow down, _stretch_ , not go for his prostate like he usually would, because this time it’s a buildup to something better. God, it’s been a long time since he’s been fucked.

He’s going to get _fucked_. It really hits Nathan then, pulls him out of his head and back to Romain balanced in front of him. He’s _looking_ at Nathan, just looking at what he’s doing, quietly intense. Nathan is suddenly, glaringly aware that he’s never had an audience while fingering himself, and a tiny beat of old shyness flutters in his chest.

“Stare a little harder,” he mutters, resisting the urge to stop the motion of his fingers under the scrutiny.

Romain’s gaze snaps up. “What? It’s hot,” he says, voice low. He moves in closer to Nathan’s propped leg. “ _You’re_ hot.” He nips at the skin of Nathan’s thigh, just above his knee, and a shudder courses through Nathan.

If that wasn’t enough, Romain reaches between Nathan’s legs to close his hand around his dick; Nathan’s body jolts, a high noise sticking in his throat. He didn’t realize just how badly he needed to be touched until this moment as Romain starts pumping him, full and steady with the movement of Nathan’s own fingers inside himself.

Fuck it’s good, it’s a _lot_ and it’s _so good_.

Nathan can already feel the pleasure gearing up inside him with the double sensation. “Romain― _ngh_ ― you can’t,” he gasps out, weakly swatting at the man’s arm. “ ‘m gonna come―”

Romain slows down, but doesn’t stop. “That _is_ the goal, no?” His teasing grin is back, and Nathan wants to hit him again.

“Yeah, but not before― “ Nathan’s train of thought, a few steps ahead of his mouth, screeches to a stark halt. Oh no. He fucked up. He fucked _up_.

“No, no no no, _fuck.”_ He abruptly pulls his fingers out of himself, and his urgency must startle Romain into dropping his hand away too.

“What?”

“Condoms, I don’t have condoms― god I’m such an idiot―” Nathan slaps his hand over his forehead, taking a second to stew in a flood of regret.

Of course he doesn’t. Of course he only remembers now. Be prepared, _always_ be prepared. _Thanks a fucking lot past-Nathan, you stupid asshole,_ he snaps in his head. He glances at Romain then, with no small amount of desperation.

“Mine are in my room,” Romain murmurs, answering the unspoken question. His room, five floors above them. Fucking fantastic. They’re already here, already _ready_ , covered in spit and lube and achingly hard― having to stuff themselves back into their clothes and waddle through open hotel hallways and elevators is totally going to kill what they have going.

Nathan wants death, and he wants it _now._

Romain runs his tongue over his lower lip again, eyes drifting off to the side and then back up to Nathan. “....I’m clean,” he says, slowly, like he wants to make sure Nathan understands, “if you are too...and if you’re okay, doing it this way...”

Nathan stares. This way is― oh. _Oh._ His heart stutters back up, thumping in his chest at the mere thought of it. This is one of those things, one of those hard _no’s_ when it comes to casual fucking that he wouldn’t dare to consider in any other situation.

 _But_. It’s Romain. He _knows_ Romain. If there’s anyone he trusts, it’s Romain.

Nathan swallows against the beating of his heart. “I am. Clean, I mean― I’m clean. And I’m okay with it. Yeah.” His skin tingles as soon as it leaves his mouth.

Romain’s broad frame seems to loosen up, just a little. “Okay,” he repeats, a hint of a smile on his face as shifts to lean over Nathan, kisses him again, solid and warm; when he pulls back, he grabs the tube Nathan dropped on the bedspread.

It’s almost mesmerizing to watch Romain pop the cap, squeeze the lube into his hand, palm his bare cock with it. “Turn,” he says in his low voice, more of a request than a command, but Nathan scrambles to obey it anyway; he quickly rolls onto his hands and knees, spreading his thighs wide.

The heat and weight of Romain’s body moves in close, his arm snaking around Nathan’s side to take hold of his wrist and bring it up to plant Nathan’s hand against the headboard. “To help,” is the only explanation he offers. Nathan’s not exactly sure _what_ it helps, but at this point he’ll do whatever the hell Romain wants him to do.

Romain drags his touch down Nathan’s back to grab a rough handful of his ass, and just that nearly has Nathan moaning. He was already eager enough, but this added layer― the thrill of the forbidden, or whatever he should call it, has shot his anticipation through the fucking roof. He wants, he wants and wants and _wants_.

He also appreciates that Romain doesn’t feel the need to work up to anything before spreading him, scooting in until their legs are shoved together, until the head of his cock is resting against Nathan’s hole. That he trusts Nathan to know what he’s doing, and to handle it.

Nathan briefly wonders if it would change anything for Romain to know that he’s only technically done this once, _technically_ has only had one other dick inside him. Technically, because, well. He could write a not-insubstantial autobiography titled _Me, myself and my vibrator: how to make do when you’re an elite skater and an Ivy League freshman and just do not have time to get laid._

Romain definitely doesn’t need to know _that_ , though.

Then Nathan can’t think anymore because Romain is pushing in, pushing, pushing, and Nathan is breathing out one long sound between a gasp and a sigh because fuck, it’s― _fuck_.

Romain keeps going, going, slow and steady until he’s buried to the hilt inside Nathan, and it’s just, god. God. So much, so _much_ , he’s stretched so far and so _full_ and it’s everything Nathan wanted.

“Okay?” Romain’s warm presence behind Nathan is bent close, hands gripping Nathan’s hips; he sounds strained, accent as thick as Nathan’s ever heard it. Nathan makes a sound that probably doesn’t count as an actual word, so he nods vigorously instead, hoping that will do.

It does. Romain’s fingers press into Nathan’s skin as he pulls out, still slow and sure, before sliding back in with a full, firm thrust; it knocks the air out of Nathan in a _whoosh_ , his body rocking forward.

It’s more than clear that Romain’s not planning to go easy― he builds up quick, a little faster with every push and pull, a little harder, until he’s driving into Nathan with abandon and Nathan is drowning in relentless, overwhelming _sensation,_ the rough drag inside him and their skin smacking together and the barely-there graze over his prostate, everything a little too much but not _enough._

He sees the need for his hand bracing the headboard now, or else he’d be crashing into it face first.

Nathan rides it out like that as long as he can, noises tumbling out of him in a shapeless mess, until he’s sure he has to touch himself or he’s going to fucking _explode._ He shoves his hand that was propping him on the mattress down under him to wrap around his dick, wobbling with the lack of balance.

Romain’s arm comes in to slide around Nathan’s middle, pressing his chest flush to Nathan’s back, holding Nathan steady. The angle is just enough to shift Romain into hitting his prostate full on, and Nathan damn near collapses with the feeling that punches through him.

A whine leaves Nathan, high and broken as he jerks himself erratically. There’s no way he’s going to last now. Romain’s lips touch the back of his neck, breath puffing over Nathan’s skin; his arm pulls tighter around Nathan’s waist and he thrusts _hard_ into that deep ache of pleasure, again and again and again oh god _oh god_ ―

Nathan feels like he’s shaking apart as he comes; it wracks through him until he can’t hold himself up anymore, until it’s all he can do to squeeze tight around his dick and suck in air through shuddering gasps. _Fuck._

Romain snaps into Nathan once, twice, before he suddenly lets go and jerks out of him― Nathan grunts, melts down onto the mattress as warmth spurts over his lower back. Romain drops down next to him, and they stay like that, just breathing; Romain mutters out something in French after a long moment.

“Agreed,” Nathan replies, face half-buried in the pillow beneath him. He has no idea what Romain said, but whatever it was― mood. Romain grins offhandedly, eyes closed, his sleek hair rumpled and sweaty sheen glinting in the lamplight and he looks so damn _good_ it’s just not fair.

He also looks ready to knock out, and honestly, not a bad idea. Great idea, actually. Nathan shifts his legs to get more comfortable and the viscous mess on his back jiggles, threatening to spill down his sides. Oh, right. He’s kind of covered in Romain’s come right now― and isn’t _that_ a fucking thought.

“Romain,” he mumbles, trying to rouse them both. “Romain, your jizz is trapping me. Romain I can’t move. Romain help. Romain. _Romain_.” Nathan is impressed with how obnoxious he manages to be even in his current state, and it works; Romain blows out a huge, annoyed breath, cracking his eyes open.

“ _Okay_ , my god,” he grumbles, pushing himself up, and Nathan shakes with dopey giggles. “A man cannot rest for one moment.” He ambles over to the tissue box on the room’s desk, and Nathan can’t see much without his glasses but the fuzzy outline of Romain’s ass is still nice, he thinks.

“I feel like it’s a fair request,” Nathan points out as Romain dips back onto the bed with a handful of tissues. It is, after all, _his_ mess.

“Maybe it is,” Romain concedes, mopping up the wetness on Nathan's back, and he meets Nathan’s eyes with a little smile. It could just be the post-orgasmic haze he’s still drifting through, but _man_ , in this moment Nathan feels so light and warm and _good_ and not weird, not in the slightest. This didn’t make things weird between them, and the relief over that buoys him up into the atmosphere.

Romain gets up again to throw the tissues away and Nathan forces his body up to wrestle the come-smeared sheets off the bed and onto the floor. He sends a silent apology to the cleaning staff before collapsing back down in exactly the same position, exhausted and boneless and the good kind of achy. Showering is a problem for future-Nathan right now.

“Romain,” he starts whining again, more than anything because he still feels a little high, and he _can._ It’s even more fun to bother Romain like this, somehow. _“_ We have to skate tomorrow. I have to skate _better_ tomorrow. Romain, I can’t skate tomorrow. _Romain.”_

Nathan hears a snort as Romain flops back onto the bed. “My dick is that good?” He grins, smug as shit. It is, in fact, that good, it’s that good and _more_ , but Nathan’s not going to give his joke the satisfaction.

“It’s alright,” he retorts, dismissive, and the swift crack of Romain’s hand against his bare ass startles out the laugh Nathan was holding in.

“And you’ll skate fine tomorrow,” Romain adds, after a few moments. “All the stress?” He gestures up and down Nathan’s body, “I fucked it out of you. Say _thank you, Romain_.”

That sends a tiny, tiny shiver down Nathan’s body, and he doesn’t actually want to think about it. “Your ego is out of control,” he throws back instead.

“Sorry, I’m not understanding your English,” Romain practically chirps. He sinks further down onto the mattress. “Can I crash here?” He asks, reaching for the lamp on the nightstand like it’s a given. Which it is, basically.

“Kinda already did,” Nathan says, secretly pleased about it. He fumbles the comforter up from where it’s bunched at the end of the bed as Romain flicks the light off, and whatever Nathan expected, it wasn’t Romain immediately rolling over to sling his arm around Nathan and pull him in close.

The surprise that quivers through Nathan as Romain tucks them together, chest to back, is honestly a little embarrassing. _This_ is what gets to him?

“Oh, he’s a cuddler,” Nathan says, mostly to hide how flustered he is. He’s never done this, after, but it’s fucking _nice_ , the way their naked skin slides warm together without the fire of arousal, how he can feel the rise and fall of Romain’s breath right behind him.

“Problem?” Romain grouses from where his face ended up in Nathan’s hair, and Nathan swallows quietly, hoping it isn’t noticeable.

“No problem.”

“Good. Hush now.” He gives Nathan’s side a little pinch before settling in again, lax, already halfway gone.

If Romain can be cool about it, he can try to be too. Nathan does as he’s told, relaxes into the warmth and the soft breathing, lets his spiraling exhaustion wash over him again; and like that, he falls into sleep easily.

  


Nathan _does_ skate better the next day. He skates a clean free, wins the title, even.

And he’s absolutely _not_ going to thank Romain.

**Author's Note:**

> my [tumblr](https://adams-witchcraft.tumblr.com/) for anyone who wants it


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